Ineffable
by Random Symmetry
Summary: The Power of a Name: We all know that cats have three different names: the everyday name, the particular name, and the ineffable name.  But what's really the purpose of that third name, and what would be the consequences if a cat actually did confess it?
1. Power in a Name?

_Power in a Name?_

A glob of foul-smelling garbage whizzed through the air and smacked into the far wall with a sickening splat. The unfortunate cat cowering against said wall was now attempting not to wince at the unknown substances oozing down on his head.

"Say that again." The voice was deep and gravelly, as if a permanent growl was stuck in the speaker's throat.

"Th-they weren't there, sir," the cringing cat whispered, praying that he wouldn't get something sharp thrown at him this time.

The cat at the other end of the dingy room stood to his full impressive height and took carefully measured steps across the filthy floor. He was silent except for a low rumbling that was softer than a growl but more sinister than a purr. When he reached the frightened brown tom he bent so that his face was just inches away from the other's, and when he spoke it was barely above a murmur.

"Someone informed them." The brown tom managed a slight nod. Long claws dug into his shoulders and he himself was flung across the room. "Someone talked! Who?" the evil cat snarled, but his only response was a tense silence. He gave a frustrated yowl and swiped at the wall, which only served to further inflame his temper. The other cat took this opportunity to scramble away, for when Macavity was angry, he usually found someone to inflict pain upon.

Now that the ginger crime lord was alone (he was fully aware of his informant's escape, he would deal with that later) he began to pace back and forth, long tail lashing in his fury. He became more vocal, muttering obscenities at the latest failure.

"That's the third time this month my victims have gotten away before I could apprehend them!" he ranted, hoisting a rotting wooden crate over his head and hurling it against a wall where it smashed into satisfying splinters. "There's only one explanation. One of my cats is betraying me. One of my own tribe..." The ginger tom's language lapsed into nearly incoherent muttering with barely recognizable phrases like, "...have no control..." "I don't even know that cat's name..." Suddenly he stopped mid-stride. "Didn't know his name..." "...his name..." he mouthed the words. Sinking down into a more comfortable position, one he always used while deep in thought, he pondered what he had just said, and an idea began to form in his twisted mind.

"Of course there's that worthless everyday name, only _housecats_" he spat the word, "use that. And the second name, why, it's only for distinguishing one henchcat from another." He paused, relishing the inevitable next thought. "But the third name...deep, singular, inscrutable, whatever. I wonder...what would happen if a cat did confess his ineffable name? Is it possible?" Macavity mused. As for the Hidden Paw himself, he didn't even know his third name anymore, not understanding the point of wasting your time pondering a name no one knew anyway. But what if there was power in the ineffable name? Macavity's devious imagination could only guess what that could be, and a malicious grin threatened to appear on his face. "Only one way to find out..."

* * *

_This is just an idea I had, and I haven't really seen much written about the mysteries of the three names. I'm not sure if I shall continue the story, so any feedback would be very helpful. RS_


	2. Train of Thought

_Train of Thought_

"I was not _staring_ at Plato, Pouncival, and you know it!" a young white cat with tan and black tabby markings insisted. She glared at the brown and white patched tom seated next to her on a large plywood board that hadn't managed to rot through yet.

"Yes you were, Etcetera, and _you _know it. You fawn over almost every tom in the junkyard, and I'd bet you'd fall for me if I wasn't your brother." Pouncival's expressive face sported a mischievous smirk as he winked at his other sibling, Tumblebrutus, who was lounging nearby and trying to keep his face blank.

The calico queen scrunched her nose up in disgust. "Eeww, I'd rather fall in love with Macavity than you!" she shrieked, swatting at her brother, who rolled into a backwards somersault to dodge her paw.

"Hey, keep it down, you'll set off Demeter," he joked. The black and gold queen was especially sensitive to the mention of the hated cat, and none of the kittens wanted to risk upsetting her. Well, not too often, at least.

Etcetera sighed dramatically, and laid her head on her paws. "There's just nothing to do," she complained.

Pouncival was instantly ready with a list of suggestions. "You could go see what Tugger's up to, that's always one of your favorite pastimes. Or Alonzo, or...hey look, there's Admetus, maybe you could stalk him for awhile." He gazed at his sister solemnly, his face a picture of innocence.

Etcetera rolled her eyes at Pouncival's "sincere" expression. "I think I can entertain myself just fine, without you giving me any ideas," she sniffed, jumping to her paws and scampering away, in search of a better way to spend her afternoon.

Tumblebrutus laughed and shrugged his shoulders. "Now what?" he yawned. But Pouncival's attention was already concentrated elsewhere.

"Look over there, at Cassandra. What do you think she's doing?" the brown-patched tom asked. Tumblebrutus glanced in the direction his brother indicated, and saw the queen sitting motionless atop a pile of junk, staring at nothing. "You thinking what I'm thinking?" Pouncival grinned. The two exchanged glances, and together crept towards the unsuspecting queen. In the back of his mind, Tumblebrutus knew that disturbing the beautiful cat probably wouldn't end well, but he'd been around his brother long enough to realize that protesting would do no good.

The toms began to climb the pile, and were almost upon her when Tumblebrutus accidentally knocked loose a tin can, sending it clattering to the ground. The lithe Siamese's body tensed, and her angular head whipped around to locate the trespasser. "You!" she snapped, cross at being disturbed.

"Uh..." Tumblebrutus stuttered. It was a well-kept secret that he liked Cassandra, and was unsure how to respond.

But Pouncival had no qualms about speaking to the queen. "Hi, Cassandra! We were bored, and just wondered what you were-"

She cut him off. "Thinking. That's all. And now since you've broken my concentration, I've lost my train of thought."

"You were thinking about trains? Like the ones Skimbleshanks rides on?"

Cassandra rolled her eyes. "No, Pouncival, I was thinking about...nevermind." She swiped a paw across her face in frustration. "Now, why don't you two go off and play?" she urged, struggling to keep her voice gentle.

"We're bored, remember? What _were_ you thinking about? Is Alonzo bugging you again? We could help with that..."

"I was thinking about my name, that's all," she replied, in an attempt to get them to leave her alone.

"Your name? Isn't that, well, boring? Sure, Cassandra's a pretty title and all, but-"

"Not that one, you dummy," Tumblebrutus hissed to his brother, "Her third name. The one you're not supposed to tell anyone, remember?"

Pouncival's mouth formed an "O" and he gave a chuckle. "Oh yeah, that one. Of course you were. Why, I do it all the time, meditating on my secret name." He rambled on, causing Tumblebrutus to severely want to cuff his brother for being such a fool in front of the queen.

"You probably don't even know yours," Cassandra said disdainfully. "Hardly anyone actually contemplates it anymore, it's like it's lost all of its meaning. Before long, cats will be _telling _each other their ineffable names!" she shook her head at the horrible thought.

"Sorry, Cassandra, we didn't mean to offend you or anything," Tumblebrutus apologized, while Pouncival had the decency to at least look sheepish. But the queen only huffed, rose stiffly and carefully made her way down from the junk pile, seeking a less-populated area. Tumblebrutus frowned, thinking that his chances with the queen had just plummeted into the negative, if that was even possible.

His brother, however, was unfazed, and was now sitting with a thoughtful expression on his patched face. "I do too know my ineffa-something name," he remarked. "But I don't know why it's supposedly so much fun to think about it. Must be an adult thing." Pouncival glanced around the junkyard from his vantage point, trying to locate more cats to bother. "Now what? Hey, look, there's Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer. I wonder if they've brought back anything interesting, like last time. Remember when they 'found' that fresh catnip? Munkustrap almost had a fit!" Still chattering, the young tom slid down the junk pile to greet the catburglars. Tumblebrutus made no move to follow, still slightly annoyed with his brother.

"This is rather a nice place to think, you know," he said to no one. Settling into a more comfortable position, Tumblebrutus tried to tune out Rumpelteazer's shrill voice shrieking at Pouncival for something or other, and began to ponder things like queens, siblings...and names.

* * *

_I wanted to get this up sooner, but life got in the way. Anyway, sorry for the obvious foreshadowing, I just wanted to keep the story focused. Reviews are always appreciated, even (perhaps especially) if they're critical. _


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